A Bitter Veil

by Libby Fischer Hellmann

  She let out a soft cry as she walked into the living room. Even in the dim light she could see the mess. Someone had tossed the place. Bookshelves were stripped; shards of china that had once formed beautiful bowls were flung into corners. Someone had stolen the framed photographs, knickknacks, and candlesticks. The cushions of the couch were gone, too.

  Anna went into the kitchen. Most of the drawers were open and gaped at her from different angles. Her good silver was gone; so was her Wedgewood china. As she passed the knife rack, she noticed the steak knives had disappeared too. To be used as evidence against her, no doubt. Anna felt tears rimming her eyes. All this needless destruction. She turned around to Hassan and Roya. “I’m going upstairs. I’ll just be a minute. You stay here and watch for the Guards.”

  In the bedroom she nearly flipped on the light, then caught herself. Her fingers still on the switch, she shivered at how close she’d come to making a mistake. Roya had a point. There was no guarantee that what she was attempting to do would work, and time was scarce.

  She stripped off the nurse’s uniform and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then grabbed the chador hanging on a hook on the door. She opened the safe in the bedroom—thankfully, no one had changed the combination—and felt around in the dark. Nothing was inside. She wasn’t surprised.

  “Hurry, Anna,” Roya murmured from downstairs.

  Anna glanced out the window. The curtain of night was lightening to gray. Dawn was not far off. Anna closed the safe. Coming out of the bedroom, she hung the chador over the railing and climbed to the third floor. The closet. She grabbed the doorknob and twisted. It opened easily. She felt her brows knit together. Shouldn’t it have been locked?

  She peered inside. Five shelves were stacked with linens, blankets, and cold weather clothes. For some reason, the items here hadn’t been ransacked. She wondered why, then pushed the thought away. She moved aside the blankets on the top shelf and inspected the back of the closet. She saw nothing except smooth wall. She did the same with the second shelf. Still nothing. It wasn’t until the third shelf that she saw what she was looking for. The bare outline of a panel built flush into the wall, painted the same color. A secret compartment. Probably a second safe. One that Nouri had never told her about.

  Anna couldn’t resist a triumphant smile. She remembered how Laleh had retrieved a bottle of liquor from the Samedis’ secret safe the day Baba-joon was taken. How Laleh suddenly realized she’d probably revealed something she hadn’t intended to and clammed up. Anna also recalled how Laleh, fresh out of architecture school, bragged about contributing to the design of their Shemiran house. This had to have been Laleh’s idea.

  Anna’s triumph was temporary. She ran her hands along the frame, looking for a latch or crack to release in order to open it. But everything around the panel was smooth. The safe was locked. And there was no combination assembly. She frowned.

  Hassan called up. His voice was raw with tension. “Anna. We must go.”

  “Can you find a knife in the kitchen? Small, but with a sharp blade?”

  “Anna, please.”

  “Just do it.” Even she was surprised by the power in her voice.

  Hassan hurried upstairs and fished a switchblade out of his pocket. “Use this.” He handed it to Anna. “But be quick.”

  She flipped open the blade and slid it along the tiny crack at the top of the panel. It wouldn’t go in. She turned to Hassan. “You try.”

  He leaned into the closet, studied the panel, ran his fingers along the top and bottom. Then he wedged the blade along the panel at the top. This time it went in. Hassan slid the blade from right to left, and as he did, they heard a click as if a latch had been tripped. The front of the panel protruded from the wall about half an inch. Anna pulled it open.

  Inside was a treasure trove of gold coins, stacks of rials, necklaces, rings, and bracelets. There were also papers, which looked like bond or stock certificates. Small velvet bags with drawstrings. Brooches and earrings. Anna’s jaw dropped. Hassan stared. Nouri had been skimming from the Martyrs’ Foundation. He’d been storing the plunder here. She looked at Hassan. He was watching her, waiting for her reaction.

  But Anna was still processing it. She tried to guess how long Nouri had worked for the Foundation—about four months, she thought. She dipped her hand into the safe and picked up a sapphire necklace. A vague memory came over her. Wasn’t this necklace worn by one of the guests at their wedding? She thought she recalled Laleh—or was it Maman-joon—complimenting the woman who was wearing it. She’d bought it in Antwerp for a steal.

  As she fingered the necklace, Anna’s eyes grew hot. A petty thief. That was what Nouri had been reduced to. Someone who had to steal, then fence the possessions of people he knew—his parents’ friends—to make ends meet. Sadly, it was the perfect job for someone in his circumstances. Perhaps the only job someone like him could have done. He knew who had what. He told the Foundation who to target, and the Foundation followed through. Anna tried to swallow, but her throat was thick. Despite her repugnance at what Nouri had done, she understood that he’d been providing for them the only way he knew.

  “What is it?” Hassan asked.

  Anna didn’t answer. There was plenty of blame to go around. Anna hadn’t known what Nouri was doing, but she should have. She’d been so miserable, so eager to leave Iran, that she never wondered where their money was coming from. She assumed Baba-joon was still supporting them—although, in retrospect, she saw that was impossible, given that his possessions had been confiscated, and he was in jail. Had she not been so wrapped up in her own despair, perhaps she would have known the Foundation wasn’t paying Nouri enough.

  She stared at the sapphire necklace. Weren’t there earrings to match? Yes. She remembered the woman at the wedding touching her ear, blushing with false modesty as Maman-joon made a fuss over the jewelry. Laleh had praised it too. How the set was one of a kind. So exquisite and stunning. Now, Anna searched for the earrings. They were not in the safe. But they were part of a set. Why would Nouri fence them separately? Unless he was desperate. Or someone else was.

  Anna’s eyes narrowed. She knew who had the earrings. She hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Roya’s voice, full of barely controlled panic, cut through the silence. “Hassan, a car has pulled up. I think it’s the Guards!”

  Hassan straightened up. He and Anna exchanged glances. He waved his hand at the safe. “Close it up.” He went down the steps, calling out to Roya. “I will take them to the alley in back. When we are out of sight, get Anna to the car.” He called over his shoulder. “Anna, make sure you lie down in the back of the car. On the floor. So no one can see you.”

  Anna looked out at the rooftop. Strips of purple now streaked across the gray. They would lighten to pink, followed by a bright sunrise over the horizon. She turned back to the safe and scooped up a handful of the stash, including the sapphire necklace. She threw it into a bag, grabbed her chador, and hurried down the steps.

  Forty-seven

  Dawn broke as they raced through the streets of Tehran. Anna was squeezed on the floor between the front and back seats. Every time the car bounced, a jolt of pain streaked up her spine. Hassan and Roya kept their mouths shut. Anna steeled herself for what was coming. Hassan had spoken to the Guards as Anna asked—they were following in another car.

  She knew the route from her house to the Samedis, and a series of sharp turns told her they’d arrived. Hassan killed the engine and got out, and Anna heard the Guards’ car pull up behind them. The engine was cut. A moment later Hassan’s voice murmured in Farsi.

  “He’s telling the Guards to get out of the car,” Roya said quietly. “Now he’s leading them around to the back of the house.” Anna nodded to herself more than to Roya. It was proceeding as planned. The gate squeaked as it was opened. Hassan called out in a low voice.

  “Be quick. Go.”

  Roya pushed the seat forward and Anna climbed out of the car. Hassan joined them
, and they slipped through the gate.

  “Did you happen to pick up a key at your house?” Roya asked.

  Anna shook her head.

  Hassan looked at his watch. It couldn’t be much past six in the morning. He nodded to Roya, who knocked on the door. There was no response. Hassan shifted. “It’s early.”

  Roya rose on tiptoe and peeked into the front hall through a glass inset in the door. She stepped back, startled. “Look!”

  Hassan peered through the glass. His eyebrows arched.

  “What is it?” Anna asked, her pulse suddenly throbbing like an engine.

  “There are suitcases on the floor,” Roya said. “With a black manteau draped over one of them.”

  Anna let out a relieved breath. It was not too late. “Knock again.”

  Roya did, louder this time.

  A few moments passed, and thumps and rustles rose from inside. The door opened. Bijan was tucking his shirt into his pants. He had grown a beard, which had come in more gray than black. He looked worn out and wrinkled, like a used canvas bag. When he saw Hassan and Roya, he looked puzzled, but when he recognized Anna in her chador, his eyes widened.

  “I do not understand.” He gazed from Hassan to Roya. “The plan was to meet at your house.”

  “She insisted on coming here.” Roya shrugged.

  “She has something to do,” Hassan added.

  “Hello, Baba-joon,” Anna said.

  Bijan stared at Anna. Something bright and shiny appeared in his eyes. At first Anna thought it might be joy at seeing her after so long. But then she realized it was the beginning of a tear. He knew, Anna thought. He’d figured it out.

  Still, his outward demeanor was calm, and he kissed her on both cheeks. “I am overjoyed to see you, my daughter. Your travails have been difficult.”

  “Where is Laleh?”

  Bijan’s eyes blazed with awareness. To his credit, he didn’t prevaricate. “She is leaving Iran today. Just like you,” he added.

  At that moment, Maman-joon started down the steps. “Who is it so early, Bijan?”

  She wore a bathrobe. Her hair was unkempt, her skin pasty. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed but, when she saw Anna, she froze in the middle of the staircase. Her mouth formed a perfect “O.”

  “What is she doing here?” Maman-joon spit out. “Get her. Quick. Call the Guards. And the komiteh. She must be stopped.”

  No one moved.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Maman-joon swept her arm in a gesture that included them all. “She killed our son!” She hurried down the steps and headed for the telephone.

  Baba-joon blocked her path and grabbed her by her shoulders. The weight of sorrow embedded itself on his face. Anna suspected it would never fade. “Parvin,” he said, “Anna did not kill Nouri.”

  “What are you talking about?” Parvin screeched, her voice rising. She stretched her arms out protectively, as if warding off evil spirits. “She is an evil jinn. She has cast a spell over you. How else could she have escaped from jail? We must purge her from our lives.”

  Anna ignored Maman-joon’s rant and looked at Bijan. “Where is Laleh?” she repeated.

  From the top of the stairs a clear voice rang out. “I am here.” Everyone turned and looked up. Laleh stood at the top of the landing. She was dressed for traveling in a beige pants suit. And she held a pistol in front of her. It was aimed at Anna.

  Maman-joon staggered backwards. “Laleh! What is this? What are you doing?”

  Laleh didn’t answer. She pointed with her chin toward Anna. “How did you get out?”

  Anna motioned toward Hassan and Roya. “They helped.”

  Laleh snorted in contempt. “I should have known. Traitors!”

  Roya stiffened.

  “Where did you get that?” Bijan gestured toward the gun.

  Laleh didn’t reply.

  Now that the moment had come, Anna felt strangely calm. Even the threat of a bullet couldn’t stop her. “You killed Nouri. Your brother. My husband.”

  “You couldn’t stand him. You were going to leave him.”

  “I never stole from him.”

  Laleh smiled coldly. “I’ll wager now you wish you had.”

  “Look in the hem of her manteau. I’ll wager you’ll find a pair of earrings that match this.” Anna pulled out the sapphire necklace. “Earrings that Laleh intends to fence when she gets to London.”

  “Very good, Anna.” Laleh started down the steps, still pointing the pistol at Anna. “But you’re wrong. The earrings are in my purse.” She waved the gun at the others. “And if anyone tries to stop me, I will shoot.”

  Her tone was resolute. Anna took a step back.

  Maman-joon clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “What are you doing, my child? Put the gun down before something terrible happens.”

  “Maman, you are a fool,” Laleh hissed. “All you cared about was planning parties and weddings and making sure we were friends with the right people. I do not care about any of that. Shaheen and I will make our own way.” She took the steps down. “And Hassan, you and Roya, with your phony piety…you disgust me.”

  Maman-joon’s hands flew to her head, and she pulled at her hair. She rocked from side to side. “Laleh, azizam.” She sobbed. “Stop this. We will make it right. You didn’t do anything. It was her.” She thrust a finger toward Anna. “Hassan, you know the truth. Call the Guards. Have them take her away. Forever, this time.”

  No one moved. Parvin’s sobs grew more frantic. “I’m begging you. Please!”

  All eyes were still on Laleh. Anna wondered if she was enjoying her moment. They heard the sound of a car pulling up to the house. A horn blasted. “That must be my taxi. Everyone stand back.”

  Maman-joon, still weeping, tried to throw her arms around Laleh, but Laleh shoved her aside. Parvin crumpled and dropped to the floor.

  Laleh headed toward the suitcases. “Nouri wouldn’t listen. He refused to cut me in. I had no choice, you see.”

  Hassan stepped in front of Laleh, blocking her path. “You are not leaving.”

  “You don’t want to do this, Hassan.”

  “Laleh, I am arresting you for your brother’s murder.”

  “I do not think so.” She fired the gun directly into Hassan.

  There was a moment of silence. A look of astonishment came across Hassan, and he clutched his gut. Maman-joon screamed. Hassan collapsed. Blood poured out from his body. Roya covered her face with her hands. Bijan looked horrified. Hassan struggled for breath.

  A blur of action followed. Bijan lunged toward Laleh and seized the gun. At the same time, there was a commotion at the rear of the house. The Guards broke down the back door and rushed inside.

  Anna knelt over Hassan. “Hold on, Hassan. Stay with me. We’re going to get you help.”

  The Guards reached the foyer, aiming their machine guns at the group. Laleh recovered first and pointed to Anna, who was still bent over Hassan. “It was her!” she cried. “She shot him! My father wrestled the gun away from her. She is an American. Trying to escape Iran. See her suitcases? Arrest her. Take her away.”

  Maman-joon looked up and wiped her hand across her eyes. “What my daughter says is true,” she chimed in. “I saw it with my own eyes.” She motioned toward Anna. “She killed my son! And now she’s shot his best friend. She is an American spy.”

  The Guards, clearly confused, looked first at Anna, then Hassan. One of them started toward Anna, but Bijan stepped forward.

  “No. The women are lying. My daughter shot this man.” He gestured toward Laleh. Anguish was etched on his face.

  The Guards hesitated. They aimed their machine guns at Laleh but glanced cautiously at Hassan. Barely conscious, he nodded. “He is right,” Hassan croaked. His eyes closed. The Guards grabbed Laleh and pushed her towards the door.

  “Maman, Baba, please. Don’t let them take me! You know the truth!” Laleh screamed.

  “Bijan!” Maman-joon screeched. “Do somethi
ng!”

  Bijan hesitated. Then, “I did.”

  Forty-eight

  The late summer sun was high in the sky when the bus pulled out of the terminal. Anna sat in the back, surrounded by women, old and young. Two of them cuddled babies on their laps, others sat with older children. The women flashed her shy, but curious, smiles. They had to be wondering about the woman with a few stray strands of blonde hair traveling alone.

  She smiled back. She couldn’t believe that twenty-four hours earlier she’d been a prisoner. Now she was on a bus to freedom. While she understood that she would be dealing with the consequences for years to come, for now she was content to let the exhilaration wash over her.

  Exhaustion, too. The past few hours had been tumultuous. After the Guards took Laleh away, the fevered pitch of the morning ebbed, leaching out the emotion, leaving a colorless gloom in its place. Maman-joon wandered through the house murmuring nonsense. She looked so fragile Anna thought a tiny breeze would topple her. Still, Anna couldn’t summon up any compassion. She was more concerned with Baba-joon. Seeing him watch his wife, knowing both their children had come to ruin, she doubted he would ever smile again.

  Roya had jumped into the ambulance with Hassan and accompanied him to hospital. She promised to call as soon as she knew something. The paramedics said it was a good sign he was still breathing.

  As soon as they were gone, Bijan sighed and went into his study. He emerged with an envelope. “This is for you.”

  Anna took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a wad of rials. Plus a letter. She unfolded the letter. It was written in Arabic, and some kind of official looking seal was stamped on the top.

  “What does it say?” she asked.

  “It is a letter signed by the chairman of our local komiteh giving you permission to travel alone. You must show this to anyone who tries to detain you. Or if there are roadblocks on the way.”

  “How did you get this? I didn’t know you—”

  He cut her off. “You do not need to know.”

  Anna searched his eyes, knowing it must have cost him dearly. He returned her gaze, his expression unreadable.